


six eight six three (miles across the ocean)

by itsnotgillian



Series: miles across the ocean [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, You're Welcome, just pure undiluted fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 13:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7389406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotgillian/pseuds/itsnotgillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That's the distance it took for Chan to realize that he needed Hansol in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	six eight six three (miles across the ocean)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back with some chansol fluff!! i missed writing about my otp ;;
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> i don't have any other explanation for this other than i've just been feeling so much chansol vibes lately (아주 nice anyone????) and i haven't written anything remotely chansol in like five months so
> 
> ~~this might have been partially inspired by the statistic probability of love at first sight~~
> 
> also since i'm an art student now, i inserted some of my knowledge on art history in here lmao hope you don't mind me being an art hoe but aNYWAYS enjoy!!

Chan sees him; a plain black mask covering the lower half of his face, his hood pulled over his head, and earphones stuck in his ears. Chan sighs at the thought of sitting directly beside a complete stranger on the plane. He prays that no one’s booked for seat C17, which is conveniently the aisle seat.

Chan arranges his bag in the compartment above him before settling in his own place, seat C18, the chatter of the passengers boarding the plane loud in his ears. He’s suddenly aware of every voice, every cough and sniffle, and it doesn’t take long before he’s pulling out his own earphones from his pocket. 

Chan scrolls through his music, halfheartedly scanning the numerous songs on his phone. After a moment, he settles for one of his favorites, and Chan breathes a sigh of relief as his ears are filled with the beat.

He’s out of it for the next few minutes, the lyrics and melodies the only thing occupying his headspace. He doesn’t realize that they’re about to take off until he hears the announcement for seat belts to be put on. 

Chan pulls his earphones out and switches his phone to airplane mode before locking it and spacing out for the second time. He closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep, but it seems like all the previous tiredness he’s felt on the way to the airport has completely disappeared. 

Chan hears a faint whirr and click coming from his left and he glances over to see the masked boy fiddling with a camera. Chan failed to see the large black camera bag resting on the other’s lap the first time, and he’s suddenly entranced with the way the guy’s fingers are working on the lens.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” The mask on the other boy’s face was pulled down now, revealing a pointed nose and delicately pink lips. The boy lowers the camera from where it was previously pointed at the window. 

“What?” Chan replies. He’s not sure whether the boy was talking to him or someone else. 

The boy faces Chan and it’s as if he’s only just realizing that Chan is there.

“Sorry, I was just thinking out loud.”

Chan nods politely, offering a small smile. His eyes move towards the window, and sure enough, the view of the clouds outside is breathtaking.

“It is, though,” Chan says thoughtfully. He hears the other boy chuckle to himself. 

The boy continues to take pictures of the sky outside, and it crosses Chan’s mind that he might be a photographer.

“Is that what you do for a living?” The other boy shoots him a confused look. Chan smiles. “Take pictures, I mean.”

“Oh—uh, not really. Well, not yet. I’m a Visual Communications major.”

Chan nods, impressed. 

“I’m Hansol, by the way.” The other boy reaches a hand out to Chan and Chan doesn’t even hesitate as he grasps the other’s hand in his.

“I’m Chan. Nice to meet you.” 

“Is this your first trip to the U.S.?” Hansol asks, drawing his hand back. His fingers resume their unconscious fiddling with the camera lens and Chan notes how lithe and supple they look against the bulky gadget. 

“Yeah,” Chan admits. “How about you?” 

“Not really. Technically, I was born there, but I’ve only visited a few times. This time, though, my aunt wants me to spend the whole summer at her place.” Hansol’s eyes are trained on his camera as he explains. 

“You were born in New York?” Chan asks, suddenly interested. He’s never met a person from America before.

“Yep, in Manhattan. I’m half-Korean since my mom’s from America. But I’ve lived in Korea for most of my life.” Hansol shrugs. Chan nods understandingly. “I’m surprised that you don’t think that I’m fully white. Most people usually do.”

Chan fully looks at Hansol’s face for the first time and sure enough, his facial features looked slightly more Western. 

“You look pretty Korean to me, though.” Chan offers. Hansol nods, muttering a little ‘ah’ as he leans back in his seat. There’s a silence after that and Chan thinks that’s the end of it and he’s thankful that the small talk wasn’t painfully awkward.

“Are you taking a vacation, too?” Hansol peers at him curiously, eyes still seemingly bright under the dimmed light of the plane. 

“No, not exactly,” Chan begins. “I’m under a language exchange program my college has, so I’m spending the whole summer learning English.” 

“That’s cool. What are you majoring in?” 

“Literature.” 

Hansol’s eyebrows shoot up at this. “Really? You don’t seem like the type to be majoring in literature.”

“Okay, then.” Chan grins. “What did you think I was majoring in?” 

Hansol taps his chin thoughtfully. “I’d say…dance? You look like a dancer to me.”

Chan’s lips turn up in a smile as he looks away, suddenly embarrassed. He doesn’t’ know _why_ he’s embarrassed but Hansol’s sudden interest in his life triggers a light blush to spread across Chan’s cheeks. 

“You’re not exactly wrong.” Chan turns back to Hansol and he’s surprised to see him leaning over, his elbow on the armrest between them. “I _am_ a dancer.” 

Hansol narrows his eyes. “For real?” 

“Yeah, for real.” Chan scoffs. “Do you want me to show you videos of me dancing at one of my showcases?” 

“Okay, I believe you. But if I don’t see you volunteering for street performances at Times Square, I’m calling you a fraud.”

Chan laughs at that as he shakes his head. “I don’t think I have time to do tourist-y stuff like that.” 

“Bullshit. You can’t just spend those whole two months studying.” Hansol looks at Chan disapprovingly. 

“Watch me do just that,” Chan says humorlessly. 

Hansol rests his chin on his hand, leaning even closer. “I can show you around if you want. I mean, I’m no expert but I remember enough of New York to show you some of my favorite spots.” 

Chan’s taken aback by Hansol’s offer, but he doesn’t exactly feel like declining it, either. Chan originally thought it would be terrifying spending time alone in a foreign country where everyone speaks a language he’s only beginning to grasp and understand, but here comes Hansol, suggesting that they tour the city together, and suddenly, Chan doesn’t feel so scared anymore. Even _if_ they’ve only known each other for about half an hour. 

“Are you sure? I mean, we just met.” Chan raises an eyebrow at Hansol. 

“I don’t mind.” Hansol shrugs, smirking. “Do you?” 

Chan crosses his arms, but there’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Again, we just met.” 

“Suit yourself.” Hansol leans back in his seat, looking smug. 

“I didn’t say no, though.” 

Hansol doesn’t respond for a few moments, but his face eventually breaks out into a grin. 

“When do your classes start?” 

“Next week.” 

“Are you staying at an apartment?” 

“Yep.” 

“Cool.” Hansol nods. “Can I pick you up tomorrow? Around lunch time?”

Chan bites his lip to keep himself from giggling. “You’re really not trying to be subtle, are you?” 

Hansol looks at him all weird as he shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Bullshit.” Chan mimics the way Hansol said it earlier, and Hansol bursts out laughing. 

“Okay, okay, you’ve got me figured out.” Hansol holds his hands up in defeat. “Since we’re already on the topic of my lack of subtlety, would you mind giving me your number?” 

“I _would_ give you my number, but I still have to pick up my sim card. I’ll give you my Kakao, though, if that’s alright.” 

“Great! No problem.” Hansol’s face lights up and Chan’s suddenly not so worried anymore about a random stranger on the plane flirting with him. 

“Okay.” Chan nods.

“Okay,” Hansol echoes.

 

* * *

 

 

Hansol was present during the whole unpacking process in Chan’s apartment. In the virtual sense, that is. 

After they’ve separated at customs, Chan’s phone immediately lit up with a message from Hansol. Chan’s eyes stayed glued on his phone all throughout the cab ride over to his apartment, only tearing away from his screen every few minutes to marvel at the buildings that surrounded him. 

Chan’s phone never ceased vibrating in his pocket as he bustled around the little space of his unit, shoving his clothes inside the small closet in the bedroom, and organizing his kitchen to his liking. Hansol’s messages weren’t of much importance, now that Chan thinks about it, but he finds it endearing how Hansol seems to be interested even in the most mundane things about Chan’s life. 

And now that Chan’s more or less finished with unloading his belongings from his luggage, he decides to rest on the couch, phone still in hand, and a new message from Hansol waiting to be opened.

 _‘how about we go out tonight instead? nyc is always better at night :)’_

Chan doesn’t mean to, but he’s smiling down at his phone. 

_‘can’t. i’m tired :( i’ll send you my address though so you can pick me up tomorrow.’_

Chan scrolls through his Facebook feed for a while as he waits for a reply. A minute later, a notification pops up.

 _‘okay :) you should rest. sleep well, chan.’_  

The message wouldn’t have affected Chan as much if it weren’t for the kissy-face emoji at the end. He gets up from the couch, a million butterflies fluttering around in his stomach as he heads straight for the bathroom for a long, hot shower.

 

* * *

 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

They’re standing at Chan’s doorway, Chan’s hand gripping at the doorknob. Hansol’s wearing skinny jeans and a plain gray shirt, his camera slung around his neck, just like yesterday. Chan suddenly feels overdressed in his long-sleeve polo and denim joggers. 

“You look great.” Hansol beams up at Chan, revealing two rows of perfect white teeth. 

“Thanks,” Chan says, looking down. “You, too.”

Chan grabs his phone and wallet before stepping out of his apartment. Hansol hails a taxi for them once they get out of Chan’s building. He doesn’t tell Chan where they’re going, just tells him he’ll like it and he should just get in the cab. 

Hansol brings him straight into the heart of Manhattan: Times Square. There are a lot of people, as expected, so when they get out of the taxi, Chan impulsively reaches out to grab Hansol’s arm. 

“Are we on that level already?” Hansol looks back at him with a smirk, but he’s already reaching for Chan’s hand.

“Don’t be a dick. I don’t wanna get lost,” Chan mutters under his breath. 

Hansol weaves through the crowd expertly, one hand clutching Chan’s and his other holding onto his camera. He pulls Chan along and they emerge on the sidewalk, restaurants and food trucks lined up in front of them.

“I _did_ promise you I’d treat you to lunch.” Hansol sends Chan a wink before tugging on his arm again.

They eat at a burger joint that has red, flashy lettering up front and Chan can’t help but admire the interior of the place. 

“Do you come here often?” Chan asks before taking a sip of his coke.

“Just once, last summer with my family,” Hansol admits. “Also, I’m just gonna pretend I didn’t ask Google for directions on how to get here.”

Chan smiles at that. He’s under the impression that Hansol is really something else. 

After they’re done with their food, the two of them step back out into the sunlight and bustling crowd. Hansol offers his hand to Chan. 

“Should we get ice cream?” 

Chan links their fingers together and nods. 

They’re waiting in line for their ice cream when Chan asks about Hansol’s family. 

( _‘My sister hates my aunt, so she insisted on staying back home. She made the excuse of studying over the summer just so our parents would let her skip the whole trip.’_ ) 

They’re walking down the sidewalk, ice cream quickly melting on their cones, when Hansol asks about Chan’s school life. 

( _‘Maybe I should help you with your English. Let’s make a deal, okay? From now on, we’re speaking in English and only English.’_ ) 

They’re standing outside Chan’s apartment door when Hansol smiles down at him with soft eyes and pink cheeks. 

“I had fun with you today.” Hansol says it in English, trying to see if Chan understands. 

“Me, too,” Chan replies, head tilted as if wanting to say, _‘You didn’t expect that, huh?’_  

Hansol’s smile widens. “Hey, you’re pretty good.” 

Chan just shrugs, moving to unlock his door, and he’s aware that Hansol’s watching his every move. He turns back and flashes him one last smile. 

“Thanks, but you should go home. Your aunt might be worried.” 

Chan likes to believe he’s just playing hard to get when he doesn’t even wait for a reply before stepping into his apartment and slamming the door in Hansol’s face. Almost immediately, Chan receives a message. 

 _‘what a way to say goodbye :( i guess i’ll see you tomorrow?’_  

Chan’s fingers swiftly move across the screen as he types. 

_‘maybe :)’_

* * *

  

When Chan wakes up the next day, he realizes he can’t actually go out. He grabs his phone and sends Hansol a quick message. 

 _‘i don’t think we can hang today. i need to settle everything for my classes. might go grocery shopping as well. sorry!’_  

It continues like that for the remainder of Chan’s first few days in New York. He never runs out of errands to attend to and time and time again, he has to turn Hansol down. It happens so often that it gets to the point that Hansol thinks Chan hates him.

 _‘are you avoiding me? :(,‘_ Hansol sends him the evening before his first day of class. 

Chan feels his heart sink when he reads the message. 

_‘no!! it’s just i had a lot of things to take care of these past few days and there were so many orientations i had to go to. also, my first class starts tomorrow.’_

Before Chan could think about it, he sends another message. 

 _‘i miss you actually.’_  

Chan’s heart is pounding in his chest as he waits for Hansol to respond. 

 _‘you do?’_

_‘yeah.’_

_‘will you tell me which university you’re going to? i’ll drop by to pick you up.’_

Chan almost falls out of bed in his rush to sit up, Hansol’s message flashed on his phone screen. He tells Hansol the name of his school and what time he gets off tomorrow before locking his phone and shoving it under his pillow. 

Chan pulls the covers up over his head, smiling wider than he has ever smiled before.

 

* * *

 

Chan sees him the moment he steps out of the main entrance of the lecture hall. Hansol’s standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, his head turned the other way. This time, he’s wearing a loose flannel and light wash jeans, but despite the casual clothes, Chan thinks he looks like a million dollars. 

“Hey,” Chan greets as he walks up to Hansol. The latter turns his head, a smile breaking out onto his face the moment his eyes meet Chan’s. 

“Hey, yourself.” Almost immediately, Hansol takes Chan’s hand. “How was your first day?” 

“It was okay. Just some pretty basic stuff, nothing I haven’t learned before.” Chan tightens his hold onto Hansol’s hand as they start to walk. They bump shoulders a few times, and each time it feels like mini electric shocks are shooting up Chan’s arm. 

“So, what do you wanna do?” Hansol asks.

“I don’t know.” Chan shrugs. “What’s there to do?” 

Hansol grins at him. “In New York? _A lot_.” 

“I know that.” Chan rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t your aunt ever wonder where you’re running off to? Aren’t you supposed to be spending time with her?” 

“She doesn’t really care.” Hansol says nonchalantly. Chan doesn’t buy it. He looks at Hansol as if he’s committed a crime.

“Don’t worry, I promised her we’d have a Friends marathon tonight.” 

Chan laughs. “Your aunt likes Friends?”

“You have no idea.” Hansol drags his voice out dramatically. He and Chan walk further down the block, not really knowing where to go, their hands never separating from each other.

“Hey, I think I know where we can go.” Hansol shakes Chan’s arm excitedly. “We can go to the Met!”

“The Met?” Chan asks, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

“The Metropolitan Museum of Art. We’re both students anyway, so we can get in for like, twelve dollars each.” Hansol’s eyes are shining with excitement and the mere sight causes Chan’s stomach to flip.

“Do you have, like, a student’s I.D. on you?”

Chan nods, checking his pocket for his exchange student I.D. “Yeah, it’s right here.” 

“Cool. Let’s go!”

 

* * *

  

“Seriously, though. Who brings their college I.D. abroad?” Chan asks after they’ve bought tickets. They’re standing in The Great Hall, deciding where to go first. 

“I do. You never know what kind of perks you’d get just for being a student.” Hansol waves his ticket stub for emphasis.

“We should get some audio guides, so we don’t appear like clueless tourists looking aimlessly at the artworks,” Chan suggests. 

“Let’s not.” Hansol pulls Chan towards the left wing. “Did you forget? I study art. I know this.” Hansol winks at Chan. “And besides, I want to experience this with you. Like, all of you. With your full attention on me.” 

Chan moves to hit Hansol on the shoulder, but he’s laughing, and Hansol’s smiling back at him, and Chan can't help the sudden acceleration of his heartbeat. 

They emerge in a room filled with numerous sculptures and busts, the sunlight streaming through the windows on the roof perfectly illuminating each display. 

Chan was always one to appreciate art, considering that his field of study in literature is closely tied with the visual aspects of it, but he never really got into the details. But, that’s going to change, now that he has Hansol with him. 

“I know Egyptian art is practically the first on the timeline, but Greek and Roman are two of my favorites, so let’s start with those.” Hansol guides Chan through the hall, weaving through the other museum patrons. 

Chan listens to Hansol talk about Etruscan influences and the three architectural orders, nodding every once in a while to affirm that he’s paying attention. However, Chan’s interest is not so much on the history Hansol’s relaying to him, but more on his voice and how he seems so excited about what he’s talking about. 

They spend the next hour like that; Hansol dragging Chan around like an excited preschooler, and Chan just silently admiring the way Hansol’s whole aura seems to light up just by talking about art. 

“You know about Monet, right? And Renoir, Morisot, Pissaro?” Hansol asks as they enter another hall on the second floor. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard of them. They’re Impressionist painters.” Chan nods, his stock knowledge on Western art briefly resurfacing. 

They walk over to a painting of water lilies, the soft greens of the canvas immediately catching Chan’s eye. 

“Impressionist paintings don’t have much detail to them,” Hansol explains. “When you look at them up close, it’s like a jumble of brushstrokes. But when you step back,” Hansol pauses, retracting back a few steps. “You see the bigger picture.” 

Chan does the same, and he tilts his head, quietly observing the picture in front of him. Sure enough, the blurred out lines of the painting seem to appear much more defined from a distance. 

“The point of Impressionism is capturing the moment as it is. Never mind that your subject is something as plain as water lilies.“ Hansol turns to Chan then. 

“You don’t really have to know much about what you’re looking at to know it’s beautiful.” 

Chan looks back at Hansol and it feels like they’re having a moment, right there in the middle of the semi-busy room, their eyes locking in on each other. 

“I'm not really sure what you’re hinting at.” Chan grins, tilting his head as if to challenge Hansol. The latter directs his gaze back to the painting, the corners of his lips turning up. 

“I’m not hinting at anything.” 

Chan doesn’t believe him for one second.

  

* * *

 

  

“So.” 

“So.” 

“Today was fun,” Hansol remarks, eyes looking anywhere but at Chan. “Although, I think any day spent with you would be fun.” 

Chan studies Hansol’s face intently, taking note of the jut of his jawbone, his perfectly formed nose, and the way the dim lighting in the hallway casts shadows perfectly across his face. It's almost too much for Chan take in.

Without even thinking he says, “Do you wanna come in? Stay for a little while?” 

The look of excitement on Hansol’s face is enough of an answer for Chan. He unlocks his front door and leads Hansol inside, awkwardly telling him to make himself at home. Chan excuses himself to the kitchen after Hansol settles in on the couch and comes back with two cans of coke. 

“Here,” Chan says, handing Hansol one of the cans, sitting right across from him. Hansol accepts it with a quiet ‘thanks’. 

They sit in silence for a while, the previous flirtiness from the museum completely gone. Chan desperately racks his brain for something, to say, not wanting the uneasiness to take over, but Hansol’s voice interrupts his thoughts. 

“Hey, Chan?” 

Chan raises his eyebrows in question. “Yeah?” 

“Do you believe at love at first sight?” 

Chan is slightly taken aback by the question, and he’s even further perplexed with the look Hansol’s giving him. He seems to be observing Chan, much like the way Chan was staring at him merely a few minutes ago. 

“Um,” Chan thinks about it for a moment. “Not really.” 

Hansol nods thoughtfully, bringing the can up to his lips. “Me too,” He says after swallowing. “Although,” Hansol moves to place his drink on the tiny coffee table in front of the couch. “I think there was definitely something the first time I saw you.” 

Hansol moves closer to Chan, fully facing him, as he tucks his legs underneath him so he’s sitting cross-legged. Chan watches him, wide-eyed and jaw slack, trying to comprehend everything that’s happening. 

Hansol sees Chan’s face and his expression shifts into worry. 

“Sorry, am I coming on too strong?”

Chan blinks, absentmindedly setting his soda next to Hansol’s. He seems to be in a daze as he shakes his head. “No, it’s just—“ 

Chan takes a deep breath. “I was actually thinking the same thing.” 

Another silence settles over them after that, and they seem to be avoiding each other’s eyes. They shift their positions at the same time, causing their knees to knock against each other, and Chan tries his hardest to ignore the tension around them. 

Chan feels fingers slotting in between his, and he’s so surprised, he almost jerks his hand back, but Hansol grips onto his hand tightly. Chan barely has time to register what Hansol’s doing until he sees Hansol leaning in, his face dangerously close to Chan’s. 

Hansol breathes in as if he’s about to say something, but Chan cuts him off before he can, lightly pressing his lips against Hansol’s. Chan pulls back a second later, his heartbeat loud in his ears. For the nth time that day, they look at each other, no words coming from their mouths, but this time, they have this mutual understanding. 

This time, it’s Hansol that closes the gap between them, catching Chan’s bottom lip in between his. Not even a second later, Hansol retreats, only to dive right back in. Hansol focuses solely on Chan, particularly his lips, and Chan couldn’t find it in himself to complain. Not that he wanted to, anyway. 

That night, Hansol slept in Chan’s bed, the ghost of their kisses still felt between them.

 

* * *

 

Chan wakes up due to an unfamiliar warmth pressing against his side, and he panics briefly since he knows he lives alone, but his fears are immediately put to rest when he hears Hansol’s soft snores from beneath the covers.

Chan reaches under his pillow for his phone, squinting in order to see the screen. He realizes he has about two more hours before his class starts, so he takes his time in untangling himself both from the sheets and from Hansol's arms encircling his waist. 

Stretching, Chan makes his way out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. Everything seems to be in place, save for Hansol’s backpack placed on the floor by the couch. However, Chan also notices Hansol’s camera resting on the coffee table next to their abandoned soda cans from yesterday. With curiosity getting the best of him, Chan walks over to pick the gadget up, cradling it in his hands. He turns it on to view the photos and what he sees surprises him. 

The first preview is of him from yesterday, eyes focused on some artwork, totally oblivious to the camera pointed at him. Chan scrolls further back and every time, he sees his face, total candids taken without his knowledge. It makes him blush just thinking that Hansol took all these, and Chan can’t deny that even if he wasn’t exactly picture-ready, Hansol’s proficiency with the camera managed to make him look ten times better than he usually does. 

Chan’s about to turn the camera off when he feels arms wrap around his midsection. He flinches, clutching the camera tightly for fear that he might drop it. 

“You really shouldn’t be touching things that aren’t yours.” Hansol’s morning voice speaks up from next to Chan’s ear, and Chan involuntarily shivers at the sound of it. Hansol senses this and chuckles, planting a kiss on the side of Chan’s neck. 

“You should go get ready for class,” Hansol mumbles into Chan’s shoulder, continuing the trail of kisses across Chan’s bare upper back. 

Chan places the camera back on the coffee table before turning around to face Hansol. 

“And you should be getting back to your aunt’s place.”

Hansol smiles lazily down at Chan, pulling him closer, his fingers placed lightly over Chan’s waist. “Don’t worry. I texted her last night.” 

Chan nods, arms coming up to wrap around Hansol’s neck. They stand in the middle of the living room, the early morning sunlight flooding the small space around them. 

“I saw your pictures.” Chan says it as if to tease Hansol. “You’re such a creep, did you know that?” 

Hansol ignores Chan’s comment and grins. “Did you like them?” 

Chan acts as if he’s thinking. “Hmm, maybe.” He relishes in the look of joy that spreads on Hansol’s face. After a while, Chan asks, “Why, though?” 

“What do you mean ‘why’?” 

“Why would you take pictures of me?” 

“Why not? I always take pictures of things I find beautiful.” Hansol shrugs. “And right now, at this very moment, I’d take a thousand pictures of you if I could.”

  

* * *

 

A month and a half, countless of messages, and about a thousand photos later, Chan and Hansol stand in the middle of the airport, Chan’s luggage placed by their feet. Hansol pulls Chan in for a hug, his chin resting atop Chan’s head. 

“I’ll see you in a week,” Hansol says quietly, as if trying to reassure himself rather than Chan. 

“It’s only a week, don’t be so dramatic.” Chan pulls away, rolling his eyes. “Just message me once you arrive in Korea so I know.” 

“I should be the one reminding you about that.” Hansol reaches up to pinch Chan’s cheek. Chan swats Hansol’s hand away, huffing indignantly.

“Stop it, I’m not a baby,” Chan complains in perfect English and Hansol couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I’m glad those two months of grammar lessons didn’t go to waste.” 

Chan sticks his tongue out at Hansol as he pulls his backpack on. “You can’t say shit in English anymore because I can more or less understand you now.”

Hansol shakes his head, laughing. “I especially like it when you swear.” 

Hansol starts to pull Chan’s luggage along, walking him over to the boarding gate and sending him off with one last kiss. 

“Message me once you’ve landed,” Hansol reminds. 

“Oh my god, you sound like my mom.” Chan tries to act exasperated, but he struggles to hide his sadness from Hansol.

“Hey.” Hansol gently bumps Chan’s chin up. “You said it yourself; it’s only gonna be a week.”

Chan nods, offering Hansol a small smile. 

“Take care, okay?” Hansol squeezes Chan’s hand. Chan just nods. 

“I will.”

 

* * *

  

It’s been about an hour since they’ve taken off, and all Chan could think about is Hansol and their first meeting on a plane much like the one he’s currently on. The only difference is, Hansol’s still in New York and Chan’s on his way back to Korea. There’s about to be six thousand eight hundred and sixty-three miles between them and the mere thought makes Chan’s stomach twist. 

Chan takes a deep breath before turning his attention to the dark sky outside, thankful to have had the window seat this time.

Chan leans back, hoping, _praying_ , that Hansol’s looking up as well.

**Author's Note:**

> *insert obligatory 'i-don't-know-where-the-the-fuck-i-pulled-this-out-from' monologue here*
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> drop by my [twitter](http://twitter.com/iksanraps) or [curious cat](http://curiouscat.me/maknaebitch) if you have anything to tell me or if you want to find out whether there was an *ehem* bedroom scene here or not ~~there really wasn't, though. or was there?~~


End file.
